pushed myself out of bed and ran toward my closet.
â¢Â  â¢Â  â¢
Twenty minutes later I sat in my car, across the street from the house of Dr. Daniel Rizzoli. He lived on Sound Beach, over by the water. The closer you got to the water, the nicer the houses gotâgorgeous and huge and intimidatingly fancy, and Dr. Rizzoliâs was no exception. The last time Iâd been there, it had been for a fund-raiser for my dad. The houseâs gates had been flung wide, there had been candles in lanterns lining the driveway, and valets in white coats running around parking cars.
My phone buzzed in the cupholder, and I looked down at itâit was a text from Palmer. She and Tom were going for breakfast at the diner in case anyone wanted to join them. I didnât know why they were up this early, but I also didnât want to get distracted by a text exchange. I had to focus. I put my phone facedown on the passenger seat, then flipped open the visor mirror of my car and gave myself a last look. Iâd wanted to look like I was competent and deserving of a recommendation, but not too dressed up, considering it wasnât even eight yet. Iâd gone with dark jeans and a button-down, and since I didnâtwant to waste time doing something with my hair, Iâd pulled it into a knot on top of my head. I slicked on a tiny bit more lip gloss, then dropped it in my bag and flipped the visor up.
âOkay,â I said, taking in a breath, holding it for seven seconds, then letting it out for ten. It was actually the only thing Iâd taken away from Camp Stepping Stoneâa way of making your heart rate slow and calming yourself down. I used it whenever I was preparing to do something stressful. But while this was not the most pleasant thing I could imagine doing today, at least I was prepared. Iâd turned the radio off and practiced my speech the whole way over. I had answers lined up for all the arguments I could imagine Dr. Rizzoli making. I could do this. I took a breath, opened the door, and stepped out into the sunshine. âHello, Dr. Rizzoli,â I murmured under my breath, practicing. âGood morning, Dr. Rizzoli. Sorry to bother you . . .â I nodded. That was the one. I straightened my shoulders and headed for the house.
I was halfway across the street when I heard the dog.
There was the sound of loud, joyful barking, and I turned around and felt my eyes widen. A large white fluffy dog was galloping down the road, tongue flying sideways out of its mouth, limbs landing in a haphazard pattern that seemed to send it listing to the side and then scrambling for balance every few steps. There was a leash dragging on the ground behind it, the plastic handle scraping along the asphalt with a dull hiss , occasionally bumping over rocks, but the dog was aloneâthere was no indication that there had been a human on the other end at some point. I looked around, starting to get concerned as the dog zigzagged back and forth across the road. This wasnât a busystreet, but I still didnât think it was a good idea for this dog to be running loose.
âHere, um, you,â I called, gesturing toward myself and feeling incredibly self-conscious about it. âCome here.â The dog stopped and looked at me, then sat down right in the middle of the street, which I didnât think was an improvement. âCome on,â I said again, gesturing to myself again as I took a small step closer to it. The dog leaped up and ran a few steps away, then sat down again, and I could see his long tail thumping on the ground. Clearly, he thought we were playing a game, and he seemed thrilled about it. âOkay, just stay,â I said as I started to move toward him slowly. I was only a few feet away from the leash that was lying on the ground. If I could get ahold of it, I could at least try to figure out what should happen next.
I had very little experience with dogs.
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